Of Meanderings and Messages
by Drew Marigold
Summary: Calen Gaimil left home with her uncles in search of adventure. They did not expect to find one that would sweep them up and leave them changed forever. - This is NOT a 10th member fic.
1. Sweet Feet

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all residents therein are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien's estate, with the following exceptions: Calen Gaimil, Amarion, Lindion, Naurion, Nenion, Talin, Avarnoviel and Enaearion. Maltakáno is also mine. Any part of my story that coincides with Tolkien's story is paraphrased from the original... with the exception of the Original Character interaction.

Author's Note: Any words found inside stars (* *) indicate Sindarin conversation. I apologise, I speak only French and English at the moment.  
  


Chapter 1  
  


Tree limbs blurred past her head, as she leapt over rocks and roots, smaller branches catching on her hair and dress. She ran swiftly and effortlessly through the wood, her keen ears always listening for sounds of her pursuers. Pausing, she glanced around. No, she had not lost them - they were, in reality, gaining on her. The fact that they were not trying to conceal their footfalls spoke of their extreme anger. She broke into a run, trying to put more distance between them.  
  
'They will catch me this time, for certain,' she thought to herself, as she concentrated on moving more or less silently, 'why do I do these things? I always get myself into trouble.'  
  
Again, she paused, listening. They were slowly surrounding her, as if they knew her destination.  
  
'There is no way to outrun them, and I'll never make it to the caves,' she concluded, 'I'll have to fight. If I can make it to a clearing, I may have a chance...' With that thought she altered her course, heading for a treeless circle.  
  
Bursting into the clearing, she gathered her thoughts. If she could not concentrate, they would defeat her immediately. She gripped her staff tightly, and braced her feet apart, ready for anything. Listening intently, she tried to determine from which direction the first one would appear. Silence reigned. Even the birds had stopped singing. She stood stock still, troubled and strained to hear anything out of the ordinary. Nothing.  
  
"Haha!" a voice shouted from behind her. She whirled around, her staff catching the man flat across the chest and knocking him down, winded. A second came flying at her from the right and she only managed to hit his shins before the third and fourth men tackled her to the ground, pinning her there.  
  
"You cannot get away this time, Calen Gaimil," said the second man, rubbing his shins with a grimace, "and this time, you will pay for your insolence." He helped the first man to his feet, and leaned down to get a closer look at her.   
  
The third and fourth men grinned at each other and then at Calen Gaimil, as they held her to the ground. She started struggling in earnest, to no avail. They were all larger than her, and much stronger.

"I am not sorry, you deserved it," she declared. Preparing herself for what was coming, she promised herself she would not cry out. She would not give them that satisfaction. Deciding that waiting was worse than what was coming, she stuck her tongue out at her captors.  
  
The third one said, "That is it, you are going to get it." And with that, three of the men dove towards her... and started tickling her mercilessly.  
  
Holding her breath, Calen endured it as long as she could. After a few minutes, she gasped for air and yelled between breaths, "All right... all right!... I am sorry... I did it."  
  
Leaning back with a triumphant grin on his handsome face, the second one inquired, "Did what? I want to hear you acknowledge your deed."

Still panting, Calen admitted, looking down at the ground, "I... I put the honey in Nenion's boots while you were all cooling your feet in the stream." Then she glanced up at him, and giggled, "You should have seen the look on your face! I would not have missed that for all the Jewels of Fëanor."  
  
Unfortunately for Calen, this set off another round of the tickle-fest. At length, three of the men looked at each other, then across the clearing to the first. 

"What do you think, Nenion? Has she been sufficiently punished?" the third one inquired.  
  
Nenion, so addressed, looked up from where he stood leaning against a tree. He shook his head, "Probably not, Lindion, but it is getting dark, I am hungry and it is a long walk home. Come along... niece." With that, he turned on his heel and started walking.

As he stalked into the trees, she thought she heard him mutter, "Do not think this is over, misfit." With that, the men filed out of the clearing, heading towards the mountain in the distance.  
  
Her stomach muscles hurt from holding in the laughter. Calen rolled to her feet, her hand on her side, and slowly leaned down to pick up her staff, which had been tossed away. Then she trotted to catch up with her uncles; she was already quite far behind them.  
  
"Amarion," she called to the one closest to her, "wait for me, please. You know you are all faster because you have longer legs." Her eldest uncle slowed his pace, allowing her to catch up. "Is Nenion very angry with me?" she asked worriedly, looking up at him.  
  
Amarion looked down at her and smiled reassuringly, "No, I do not think so, but he was not impressed. He had been hoping to catch some meat for supper, and he could not track very quietly without his boots, now could he?" They walked on for some time in silence. "Besides," Amarion finally added, grinning from ear to ear, "those were his favourite boots."  
  
*****  
  
It was already dark when the five reached their family home in the foothills of Ered Mithrin (1). The large house looked strangely dark and alone, almost sinister. Calen would probably never be accustomed to coming home to an empty house.  
  
Once inside, she started setting the table as Lindion rekindled the fire they had left banked for the day. Amarion searched through the cupboards, pulling out this container and that, while Naurion walked out to the spring house for some cold Elven wine to accompany the meal. Nenion stood at the pot hanging over the fire, sprinkling in some of the contents of the containers from the table.  
  
"You know," he said, without looking up," The stew would have been much better had we been able to catch a rabbit or two."  
  
Calen looked guiltily at her uncles, "I said I was sorry." And under her breath, she added, "I just thought some of us needed to relax a little."  
  
Nenion looked up quickly, "What was that?"  
  
"Nothing," she replied, instantly sorry she had said anything. In a conciliatory tone, she added, "but you are right, the stew would be better with meat. Perhaps tomorrow we will have better luck?"

Nenion would not be so easily appeased , "Perhaps," was all he would allow.  
  
It was a quiet meal, as everyone was tired, and very hungry. Glancing around the table, Calen was thankful for her family, and the closeness they shared. A lump formed in her throat as she looked at the two empty chairs pushed up against the wall.

Once the meal was finished and the table cleared, and everyone was occupied, she grabbed her cloak and tried to slip out the door unnoticed   
  
"Where do you think you are going?" It was Lindion - he never missed anything. He walked over to stand in front of her.  
  
"For a walk," she replied, desperate to be outside, alone.  
  
"Would you care for some company?" he asked, searching her face for a clue to her emotions.  
  
"No, thank you," she said, avoiding his gaze, "I will be all right."  
  
"Just do not go far," he cautioned, stepping aside, "and do not be out all night, like last time."  
  
"I will be fine," she called over her shoulder as she hurried into the dark. Calen found it was both irritating and endearing to have him question her like that. Her father used to be the one to ask the questions.

The thought of her father brought back the lump in her throat. She missed him so much. She had loved the feeling of towering over him, and leaning her chin on the top of his head. She missed his gruff voice, telling stories of his ancestors in Khazad-Dûm, laughing at her bad jokes, rumbling through the halls early in the morning. But most of all, she missed how safe she felt when he hugged her. Letting out a sad sigh, she headed for her thinking tree. Hopping nimbly up to her favourite branch, she leaned her back against the trunk, and started to think.

She was unaware of the passing time. Calen suddenly noticed that Amarion had joined her. He was sitting at the foot of the tree, just beneath her.  
  
"How did you know where to find me?" she asked softly, knowing he would hear her.  
  
Amarion snorted amiably, without looking up, "It was not very difficult. Where do you always go when you miss them?"

Calen dropped to the ground silently, landing next to him. She leaned against him, he wrapped his arms around her, and she sighed.  
  
"Amarion?" her voice was muffled as she hid her face in his chest, "I've been thinking."  
  
He chuckled. "About what, this time?" he asked, looking down at the top of her head.

"I need to get away from here, Amarion. Everything I see makes me sad, everything reminds me that they are gone forever," she looked up at him pleadingly, desperate for him to understand, "I want to see the world."  
  
"Oh, starling," he started quietly, "I know you are feeling alone. There is no one here you can talk to freely. But you are young, you should not travel far from home."  
  
"Please, at least consider it. I feel trapped here. I am the only one who has not ventured beyond the foothills," she tried not to whine, "Amarion, I am 127 years old. Stop treating me as a child."  
  
"All right. I will think about it," he assured her. She looked at him pointedly. He smiled back at her, "I will. I promise."

***** 

(1) Ered Mithrin: the Grey Mountain

~*~*~*~

Special thanks to: Al's Waiter, Aralanthiriel, GreyLadyBast, Maryn, Nimbrethil, and Wunderlust for letting me bounce ideas off your heads, for the comments and critiques, and for the constant encouragement. I never would have posted this without all of you.


	2. No One of Consequence

Chapter 2  
  


Calen sat up all night, looking out her window. She did not notice the sun rising, and it was the birds singing that alerted her to a new day. And, like every other morning, she could smell the maltakáno brewing near the fire. She smiled to herself, 'What would morning be without Naurion making that wonderful drink?'

Lindion called to her from her doorway, "Get up, we are leaving in an hour. Unless, of course, you wish to be left behind."

Confused, Calen rolled from her window-seat, and ran to the door. "I beg your pardon?" she called into the hall, "Where are we going?"

Amarion peered around the corner and grinned. "We are going on an adventure, of course! Is that not what we discussed last night?" He looked down at her sleep wear, "Will you be getting dressed today, or do you intend to prance around the countryside wearing nothing but your nightdress?"

Calen turned back into her room, and began to rifle through her wardrobe. "No, no, no," she muttered, as she discarded one outfit after another. Then, at the back of the closet, she found the perfect one - comfortable for walking, made especially for riding... and it was her favourite colour. She donned it as rapidly as she could. After quickly making one small braid just above each of her ears and merging them in the back, she joined her brothers for breakfast.

"That was fast," Naurion laughed over his maltakáno, "One would think you are eager to leave."

"I am," Calen replied, smiling happily. She snatched up one of the small cakes from the table and poured herself a cup of maltakáno, "I have waited decades for this opportunity. But where is Nenion? Is he coming as well?" she asked, looking around the kitchen.

"Yes, I am going," Nenion himself replied, walking in from outside, "while some people were sleeping the day away, I was readying the horses. They cannot do it themselves." With that, he stalked back out the door.

"Oh, dear. He is still very upset with me," Calen said, her mood deflated rapidly. "Could he not get the honey out of his boots?" she asked, looking from one uncle to the next.

It was Naurion who replied. "No, not entirely. And he claims his feet will smell like bees' wax for days... I did not tell him it would be an improvement," he grinned, advising, "Just do not mention either matter to him, and he will be himself again in a few days."

Amarion finished packing the food into saddlebags and shoulder bags, and handed Calen her cloak. "I think we have everything we will need for a few weeks," he said, scanning the room for any forgotten items, "shall we proceed?" And, offering his arm to Calen, they all went out into the sunshine.  
  
*****

Elsewhere in Middle Earth, two weeks later...  
  
Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee lagged behind as the group ran away from the Orcs of Moria. It was getting harder to breathe and grief threatened to overwhelm them. Finally, Legolas looked back and noticed Frodo and Sam some distance away. He called attention to the others. Aragorn and Boromir reversed course, and ran swiftly to the labouring Hobbits.

"Forgive me, friends," said Aragorn humbly, "I had forgotten about your injuries in our haste to escape. If you will bear it a little longer, Boromir and I will carry you to a safe place, where I can tend to your wounds." Saying this, Aragorn and Boromir scooped up the little ones and ran to catch up with the others.

After running a little farther, Aragorn allowed the group to stop for rest and healing in a clearing, by a stream, near the edge of the Golden Wood. The other Hobbits, Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck, and the Dwarf, Gimli, set about kindling a fire to boil water as Aragorn knelt beside the injured Halflings.

Sam's wounds were ugly, but superficial. Aragorn was not overly concerned, though he did instruct Sam to wash his cuts with boiled water and athelas leaves before they were bound. Aragorn was more worried about Frodo's injuries. He had, after all, just been knocked into a stone wall by the thrust of an Orc's spear, and thrown across the hall. The fact that he was still standing was nothing short of miraculous. Despite Frodo's assurances that all he required was food and rest, Aragorn carefully peeled off Frodo's tunic, and was astonished to find a mithril corslet. The whole Fellowship marvelled at the intricate handiwork of the garment. Aragorn instructed Frodo to leave it on, even in sleep, so long as he was on his quest.

After the wounded were tended, the entire group sat down for a meal. It was a silent repast. Everyone was lost in his own thoughts, depressed, missing Gandalf.

Legolas, sitting off to one side, cocked his head, listening intently. "Does anyone else hear that?" he asked, looking around.

His friends looked at him with concern, hoping he did not hear the Orcs approaching.

"What do you hear, Legolas? Are they upon us?" asked Boromir, reaching for his sword.

"No, no, nothing like that," Legolas said, shaking his head in bewilderment, "It sounds like... sobbing." He looked at the Hobbits, to ensure that it was not them. All four Hobbits looked ready to cry, but no sound came from them. "I will go investigate."

Aragorn rose from his place by the small fire, "You shall not go alone; these woods are filled with surprises." He drew his sword and Legolas readied his bow with an arrow. After charging Boromir and Gimli to protect the halflings with their very lives, the two disappeared silently into the wood without a backward glance.

The two warriors strode noiselessly in the direction of the lessening sobs. They approached a small clearing with a large tree in the centre. There, huddled against the far side, was a cloaked figure, still sniffling.

They tightened their grip on their weapons, and Aragorn called out, *You, there. Stand up.* The figure started, and a hooded head peered around the tree trunk, but no other motion was made.

Legolas, watching from slightly behind and to the left, whispered, *Perhaps he does not speak an Elven language?*

Aragorn tried again, this time in Westron, "I said, You there. Stand up."

Slowly, the figure rose to his feet, grasping a long staff, wearing a bag slung over his shoulder. Walking around the tree, he came to a halt facing them, his back to the tree. He braced his feet apart, and stood still, ready for a fight. Looking back and forth between the sword and the bow trained on him, the figure let out a resigned sigh, straightened, and tossed the staff on the ground at their feet.

Aragorn and Legolas looked at each other, surprised at this unexpected gesture. They turned back to study the unarmed figure, standing before them in the shade of the tree. The manner in which he stood indicated great weariness. The traveller's boots were worn, the thick dark blue cloak was mud stained and frayed at the edges.

"Who are you?" Aragorn asked.

"A traveller," came the hoarse, whispered response, "No one of consequence. Let me be on my way."

Legolas turned to Aragorn and said in hushed tones, *There is something... I cannot identify it... telling me this man is not as he seems. I do not think he should be allowed to proceed on his journey without further questioning.*

Aragorn nodded in agreement, *You speak wisely, my friend, I think we sha-* 

While they were talking, they had slackened their hold on their weapons, and the stranger had taken advantage of the situation. He had snatched up his staff and bolted into the glade, running swiftly in the direction of the Fellowship.

The warriors took chase, overtaking him rapidly. Legolas tackled the man around the waist, both of them falling to the ground. The man wriggled and managed to throw a handful of dirt in the Elf's eyes and kick him in the chest before Aragorn put a stop to the fight simply by placing the tip of his sword under the stranger's chin. The struggling ceased immediately. Legolas quickly hauled the small man to his feet, wiping his eyes with one hand, and pinned the stranger's arm behind his back.

The man let out a cry and gasped in pain. Startled, Aragorn tore back the hood, causing a cascade of wavy, light brown hair to fall down his... no, her back. He was not a he, after all. He was a she! Aragorn peered at the girl closely. Tear tracks marked her face, but she was not crying now. She glared back at him angrily.

She had blue eyes, and *What in Middle Earth...* he asked himself... pointed ears. He was not only a woman, she was also an Elf?

Aragorn and Legolas looked at each other, then back at the woman. What kind of woman, Elven maiden notwithstanding, would travel alone, on foot, essentially unarmed in these dark days?

Legolas asked, in a hushed tone, "Who are you?"


	3. A Hostage is Born

Chapter 3  
  


The strange maiden glanced between the two bewildered faces. "Please, do not hurt me," she pleaded, trying to get out of Legolas' hold, "I have gold, if you want it. Just let me go."

"We have no use for gold," Legolas stated flatly, tightening his grip, shaking her slightly, "we want to know how you came to be here, on the verge of the Golden Wood."

She must have realized she would have to tell them something in order to get away. In a monotone voice, she began to recite:

"My uncles and I were traveling along the edge of Mirkwood sometime last week, when we were attacked by frightful creatures of great speed and strength. I was separated from my uncles, and my horse was killed as I fled. My hope was to reach the Elves of Lothlórien. Perhaps they have received news of my uncles. Now, I ask you," she continued with as much authority in her voice as she could muster, drawing herself to her full height, "to let me pass. My hope of finding them grows slimmer with every passing day." As she said this, the Elf maiden tried to move away from the pair studying her so intently.

*There is a ring of truth in her words,* said Legolas, still holding her, though not so tightly as before, *Perhaps she should accompany us to Lothlórien as our paths, for the moment, lie together.*

Aragorn thought for a moment, then said, *I do not like this idea, but we cannot leave her here alone, at the mercy of the elements and the Orcs. Yes, she would be safer with us.*

She stared at them in confusion. "I must have hit my head harder than I thought," she said slowly, "I cannot understand a word of your speech."

They both stared at her, amazement and bewilderment on their faces. Only then did the pair realise that they needed to speak in Common Speech for her comprehension. An Elf who didn't speak Sindarin? This was indeed a mystery.

Ignoring, for the moment, the language issue, Aragorn informed her of their decision, "We have decided that you should accompany us. You will be safer in our group, and..."

"WHAT?" she interrupted, indignant, "I do not wish to go with you! I have managed very well on my own, so far, and have almost reached my destination. Why would I need your protection now?" 

"We are likely being pursued by Orcs," Aragorn tried to explain patiently, "and if we leave you here, you will be in their path. They are not disposed to question travellers. They would rather kill you than look at you. Please come with us."

The maiden could not believe her ears. "You are implying," she said angrily, "that the 'Orcs' will not only see me, but also be able to catch me. I am not as helpless as you seem to think."

"If you could not outrun the two of us," Legolas said wryly, "how do you expect to elude hundreds of Orcs?"

Aragorn was beginning to find this conversation tiresome. They needed to return to the Fellowship and be on their way. The pursuing Orcs would catch up with them soon.

"You are coming with us," he said firmly, "You have a choice. You may come voluntarily, or by force. We will not leave you here."

The woman paused, then nodded slowly, and Legolas released her.

"I am glad we agree," Aragorn told her, "I am -"

Again, she took off into the forest, and again they tackled her to the ground.

Annoyed, Aragorn said, "I will not allow you to endanger our lives as well as your own with this childish behaviour." With that, he picked her up effortlessly and put her over his shoulder, much to her chagrin. With a nod to an amused Legolas, who retrieved her staff from the ground, they started running back to the Fellowship.

*****

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Gimli and Boromir leapt to their feet, axe and sword in hand, ready to defend themselves and the Hobbits against an army of Orcs. The fierce looks on their faces faded to relief, then bewilderment as what Aragorn carried registered. He placed the girl on her feet, none to gently, and nodded to the group. She stood angrily, and faced the Fellowship defiantly. The group examined her closely.

Seen in the light of the clearing, Legolas realized she did not really look like any Elf he knew. She was short, though taller than the Dwarf. Her long hair was neither blonde, nor raven, neither was it straight like Elves' hair; it was wavy, and a little frizzed. Her eyes were blue, clear and direct. She had the ethereal grace but not slenderness of the Elves, and she was no great beauty. She was dressed in a knee-length dress with side slits, matching leggings, riding boots and, of course, her cloak, not flowing Elven robes. In short, if it were not for her eyes, pointed ears, graceful comportment and clear complexion, she would not appear Elven at all.

"Gentleman, meet..." Aragorn started, and paused, realizing he did not know her name.

"Calen Gaimil, at your service," she said sarcastically, filling in his blank, and adding a small curtsey.

"The Lady Calen Gaimi-..."At that point, Aragorn's voice trailed off, and he, Legolas and Gimli stared at her as though she had grown a third arm.

Noticing their increased scrutiny, she grew more uncomfortable. After a long, shocked silence, she asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Calen... is an Elven name," Legolas said, finally.

"And Gaimil is... Dwarvish," Gimli finished, stunned.

"Yes," Calen said, impatiently, "What of it?" No one answered her. She noticed that both Elf and Dwarf were eyeing her with skepticism. A tense silence ensued, interrupted only by Aragorn's cough. 

He looked around the group, "This is all very interesting, but we should not delay any longer. Orcs run swiftly, and darkness is only hours away. We must be on our way."

Everyone nodded in agreement, suddenly anxious to be moving again, and began to hide all traces of their presence.

*****

Some hours later, walking in the dark, just ahead of the Dwarf and a little boy, Calen tried to puzzle out what had just happened, who she was with, and why they had kidnapped her. She had no value for ransom, she certainly did not appear to come from a family of wealth. They were taking her where she wanted to go, but would not let her travel alone. That fact alone was strange.

She kicked a stone, watching it trip along a few feet ahead. Once she had joined the group, she had been completely ignored. They could, at least, have introduced themselves. Dark thoughts about the Man and Elf who had forced her into this situation swirled around in her head.

She knew all about the Elf-Dwarf excommunication, more so than some, yet here were one of each, joined on a... quest? Men and Elves had been estranged for quite some time, but these present seemed to be, if not friends, then at least, comfortable acquaintances.

What confused Calen the most was why a strange group of travellers, so intent on haste, would include four young boys? And why were none of them mounted? Would horses not increase their speed and reduce their chances of being overtaken? Ever since she entered the realm of the Golden Wood, nothing made sense.

Although unable to see the pair behind her, her keen ears caught pieces of a whispered conversation. She thought she heard the word 'Moria' and the little one thought they were being followed. Calen quickened her pace.

She did not like travelling in such a group. 'They are loud and careless,' she thought bitterly, 'I would make much better speed if I was not forced to walk in such a group of misfits.' She was cold, tired and her feet were aching inside her boots. If alone, she would have been sitting in a tree long ago. The walk might not have been so tedious, if only someone would speak with her. As it was, she had to walk quickly and quietly, or they would think her a burden. The last thing she wanted to be was a burden.

At length, the Elf announced that they had arrived at Lothlórien. Calen smiled for the first time in hours, if not days.

'Soon.' she hoped, 'I will hear news.' Wrapping her woolen cloak more closely around her chilled body, she hurried to catch a glimpse of the famous forest kingdom.

She gasped in amazement. Even in the dark, its beauty was overwhelming. The Elf wished for the beauty of summer, and Calen silently agreed with him.

There seemed to be a discussion going on between the two Men. One wanted to stop for the night before proceeding, the other did not want to enter the forest at all. Calen tuned out their voices as she absorbed the wonder of the world around her. Finally agreeing to walk farther, the group continued into the Wood.

Twenty minutes or so later, Calen could hear a waterfall, and water running over rocks. Remembering the stories from her childhood, she decided, 'This must be Nimrodel.' An instant later, the Elf gave voice to her conclusion. Walking through the water, she felt refreshed and ready to walk a while yet. Her sullen mood lifted slightly, realizing soon she would be rid of these companions.

On the far bank, they sat and ate a little while the Elf told them tales of Lothlórien. Although Calen had heard them all before, she listened as intently as the others, a content smile on her face. In the silence that followed, her mind wandered back to happier times: sitting at her mother's feet, listening to those same stories; asking mother to brush her hair before bed; running barefoot through the wood surrounding their home. Her smile of contentment faded, replaced by a more pensive look.

So caught up was she in her own thoughts, that she was jerked out of her reverie when the Elf began to sing softly. She was more startled when she realized he was singing the lullaby her mother used to sing. Tears formed unbidden in her eyes, but she did not allow them to fall. She would not appear weak in front of these folk.

Calen was still trying to regain her composure when the Elf volunteered to climb a tree to evaluate it for a night's shelter. He had barely started to climb when a voice from far above cried out, *Halt!*


	4. Middle Earth Plank Etiquette

Chapter 4

Startled, Legolas dropped to the ground and pressed his back to the tree. He bid the others not to move or speak. The musical sound of laughter floated down from above. Out of the corner of his eye, Legolas was surprised to see tears forming in the maiden's eyes. He had no time to spare to consider her feelings, though, as the Elves in the trees called down to him. He and Frodo were to climb up to meet them and hear what news they had, the others were to wait at the base of the tree and stand guard.

Legolas, Frodo and Sam mounted the ladder that appeared, and started moving upwards, stopping when they reached a flat wooden platform. Here, they were greeted by three Elves who hailed them in Sindarin and in the Common Language. They introduced themselves as Haldir and his brothers, Rúmil and Orophin. 

"How many came with you to our fair forest?" asked Haldir.

"Eight... no, nine," Legolas answered, "Myself, Aragorn the Elf-friend, another Man, valiant and true, four hobbits and an Elf maiden..." he concluded, with a significant glance at the two Hobbits. He had the hope that they could conceal her Dwarvish name a while, as it would raise interesting questions to which they, as yet, had no answers.

"This is all very well, we have knowledge of most of you. Aragorn is well known to the Lady, " Haldir replied, "An Elf maiden? This news is unexpected, but she will be welcomed here as kin. You have mentioned only eight; you said nine were in your company."

"The ninth is a Dwarf," Legolas admitted softly.

"A Dwarf!" cried Haldir, " He is not permitted to stay here, Dwarves are forbidden to enter our lands."

"But," Frodo protested, "He is a friend of Elrond, and Elrond himself chose him to accompany us... he is faithful and brave."

At this announcement, the Elves spoke quietly among themselves, and questioned Legolas further. At length, they reached a decision. "Very well," Haldir said, finally, "though it is against my better judgement, the Dwarf may stay - provided Aragorn and Legolas watch him closely - and he shall not be permitted to see the forest. He shall wear a blindfold." 

Haldir paused, then continued, "And I would like to know why you travel with an Elf maiden. That strikes me as odd, for many reasons."

Legolas held his breath, waiting for the questions he could not answer.

"Unfortunately," Haldir went on, "we have not the time to inquire about her in depth, as your companions are on the ground, and are not safe. You shall all spend the night in the safety of the trees. Tomorrow, we will start walking early."

Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin were invited to stay on the flet, or talan, with the three Wood Elves. The others were asked to stay on the talan in the next tree.

Legolas descended the tree to inform the others of their plans.

*****

Calen had stopped shivering, and she was no longer weary, but she was not comfortable. How did those Elves expect her to sleep on a flat board? She would rather perch on a branch, or, better yet, in her hammock at home. And how could she relax with the Dwarf, the Elf, and the Men watching her when they thought she was not looking? It was very unnerving. Ignoring the rude stares of the others, she wrapped her cloak and Elven blanket around her body, turned her back to them and feigned sleep. Pretending to sleep, however, did not block out their whispers. Her keen ears caught every word of their muted conversation.

"She is an Elf, did you say, Aragorn?" inquired Boromir softly.

"I believe so," Aragorn answered, "At least, she appears to be. I have not had the opportunity to question her, but I have no reason to doubt it. Her name is Elven, after all."

"Yes," whispered Legolas, "part of it. But what about ...the other half?" 

"I do not know," Aragorn replied quietly, "It certainly sounds like a Dwarvish name. But there may be another explanation." 

The whispers continued for several minutes before Calen sat up and glared at them, "Even though I was taught not to eavesdrop, in this case it is impossible. I was always told it was improper to speak of people behind their backs, especially whilst they are in earshot. I am not in the habit of explaining myself, but I will be more than happy to make an exception to any and all who are interested - tomorrow - provided you let me get some sleep on this worthless plank tonight. I may not be from around here, but where I come from, it is considered courteous to be quiet whilst others attempt to sleep."

From the other side of the talan came a sincere, "Our apologies, Lady." Calen nodded, and turned back to once again try to sleep.

A long while later, when they were certain she was asleep, the others resumed their conversation. 

"I was under the impression," Gimli murmured gruffly, on the verge of sleep himself, "that Elves do not require sleep."

Legolas responded, peering through the darkness at the huddled figure, "We do not. Why does she?"

*****

Nenion poked the fire moodily. They had been wandering for over a week, and still had found no clues to indicate in which direction Calen had fled. Though no one said anything about it, and not one of his brothers had looked at him reproachfully, he felt terrible. His last conversation with Calen would not stop ringing in his head.

~*~

"You never take anything seriously, Calen," he said angrily, "and it is going to get you into trouble one day."

"Your problem," she retorted, "is that you take everything too seriously. You cannot take a joke, and you are always criticizing me. Why can you not relax? Do you have a stone in your boot?"

"Speaking of which," he said, reminded, "you have ruined my good boots! Stop acting like a child. Accept responsibility and grow up."

"Being grown up and being a stick in the swamp are two entirely different things," she mumbled as she rubbed down her horse, "You need to leave me alone."

"I wish I could," he whirled and shouted in her face, "Our family was perfect. And then you came along, Misfit, and became the favourite. Everyone loved you. I would HAPPILY leave you alone! The only problem is - I cannot. You are everywhere I go. Why do you not leave ME alone?"

~*~

As soon as he said it, he had regretted it, but it was too late. Trying to retract words is like trying to put a fluffy dandelion back together, once the wind has caught it. 

Nenion cringed as he remembered her face: shock, intense pain, tears in those big blue eyes, and then blankness. She had said nothing in response - so unlike her - and had merely finished brushing the horse. Then she curled up in her bedroll and ignored them all. After everyone else was quiet, Nenion was almost certain he heard muffled sobs from her side of the campfire. 

In the morning, no one said anything about the crying. Perhaps he had been mistaken. Certainly, there was no sign of tears now. While riding, Calen had been very withdrawn and subdued, speaking only when asked a direct question. Nenion had tried apologizing, several times in fact, but she had avoided him entirely. He could hardly blame her.

He had been working up the nerve to try again that night when their camp was destroyed by ugly creatures. Everyone had scrambled for their weapons. (In retrospect, Calen should have been taught how to defend herself using something other than her staff.) In the ensuing battle, everyone lost track of their little sister. Naurion thought he had seen her leap onto the last living horse, and gallop off into the trees, but he could not be certain.

After the fight, they searched the surrounding area. Lindion located her horse, dead, pierced with two or three dozen arrows. Could Calen have escaped? Unharmed? She was not captured, they knew - all the attacking creatures had been slain. Where was she?

Nenion started as a new line of thought occurred to him, 'What if Calen does not wish to return? Has she used this separation to remove herself from the family?' He felt sick. What if she was injured, or ill, and thinking he hated her? She was so young, and out in the world, all alone. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her!

Amarion, who had also been thinking, interrupted his thoughts saying, "We are getting nowhere searching for clues. Calen knows how to lose a tracker. If she thinks she is being pursued by those creatures, she will take pains to hide all traces of her journey. Perhaps she ventured to Lothlórien, to see the land of her mother. We will journey thence. If she is there, we will rejoice. If she is not, perhaps our cousins will have suggestions as to where to look." Brightening, he added, "And just maybe, we will find her on the way."

Nenion felt strengthened by new resolve; they would look for Calen until she was found. There were no alternatives. He would apologize, and they would all go home. The brothers agreed to begin moving toward Lothlórien at daybreak.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Author's Note: Chapters 5 and 6 are in the works, please be patient. And thank you for reading.

~Drew~


	5. Blind Sight is 20 20

Author's Note: I am sorry this took so long. All the characters went on strike and were picketing just inside the Naith. In the end, I had to order 'back to fic legislation;' I only hope they aren't bitter. Already, some characters have started rebelling against the plot line they agreed to in the beginning. Enough excuses. On with the story. I hope you enjoy it!  
  
Chapter 5 -Blind sight is 20/20

The sun was barely up, and mist was still floating above the ground when the Elves woke the Fellowship. Most of the Fellowship, that is; Calen lay on the talan still deep in sleep, while the rest of the company waited at the base of the trees. Finally, Aragorn decided she would need to be awakened. After the reprimand she'd given them night before, and the fact that the hobbits were glad to be out of the tree, no one was eager to volunteer. Legolas was chosen, as he could climb the tree the swiftest.

Since the Elves were eager to be on the move, he mounted the ladder once again. The sound of soft snores met his ears before he reached the top. Mounting the platform, he saw her on the far side, curled away from him. He walked over to her tentatively.

Leaning over the sleeping figure, he rolled her from her side onto her back. He then noticed her face was streaked with dried tears. This was the third time he had noticed tears or their traces. What would cause her enough pain to cry? She seemed so angry yesterday. Was it their conversation last night? Guilt washed through him, and he was ashamed of his behaviour towards this lost maiden. She had obviously been through much already, and the attitudes of the company had not made her feel welcome. 

These thoughts gentled his hands and voice as he called to her, "Lady Calen, we must be on our way now. The sun is up, and we have far to go." She did not stir.

He tried calling a little louder, "Mistress, it is time to leave. The others are waiting." And he reached down, gently shaking her shoulders. 

Still the woman made no motion. Frustration began to mount. He had no wish to be abrupt, but they were losing time. He sat her up, knelt before her, nose to nose, and shouted, "Lady Calen, WAKE UP!" 

Instantly her head snapped up, eyes wide and she jerked out of his grasp, all but falling off the talan. Legolas lunged, and caught her by the hand. As he shifted his balance to pull her back, Calen dangled high above the ground, eyes wide, making no sound. He slowly drew her in, then held her close for a minute, steadying her. Satisfied she was awake enough to balance, he released her. Shaking a little, she stepped back and looked up at him. 

"Well," she said with a weak smile, "that is one way to get my attention," leaving it open to question whether she meant the near-fall or the rescue. 

Still holding onto his forearm, she leaned cautiously over the edge and muttered, half under her breath, "Why would anyone in their right mind want to sleep up so high? One wrong step and SPLAT!" Turning back to Legolas, she said groggily, "I gather it is time to leave?"  
  
At his nod, she released his arm and set about collecting her cloak and staff. Her blanket she folded quickly and tucked into her bag, which she then slung over her head to the opposite shoulder and she slipped her staff between her cloak and her dress, through the belt in the back. She rubbed her face vigorously with both hands, as if trying to clear the cobwebs in her head. Taking a breath, she set her shoulders, mounted the ladder and started her descent. Legolas noticed she did not look down.

When Calen had reached the midpoint, she looked up at him and gave him a half smile. "I forgot to say thank you," she said softly, "and good morning." Smiling in return, he waited till she had reached the ground before descending himself. On the way down a thought occurred to him.  
  
Legolas dropped the remaining three metres and landed silently beside Calen, Merry and Pippin. The two Hobbits jumped at his sudden reappearance, but Calen did not seem to notice. She was too busy looking around at the trees and Nimrodel to pay attention to much else. It was so much more beautiful in the sunlight. 'How could Nana* have left this forest?' she thought, 'The trees around our house are ugly in comparison. And the stream! It is so musical. Given a choice, I would never leave.'  
  
Someone tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention. She started, and whirled around to face him, eyes wide.  
  
Legolas spoke quietly in her ear, "Lady Calen, I would have a word with you."   
  
Calen looked up at him, saw a deadly seriousness in his eyes, and merely nodded her assent. Glancing around to ensure they were not observed, Legolas began walking away from the group, leaving Calen to follow as she would. She assured herself that everyone was busy re-packing their bags and quietly walked in the direction she had seen Legolas go.  
  
She found him leaning casually against a mallorn tree studying one of his arrow tips. Suddenly nervous, Calen's steps slowed as she approached. 'What does he want?' she wondered, 'Why is he so secretive? Have I done something to offend him?' Though she made no sound, he looked up while she was still several paces away. Motioning for her to move closer and he put the arrow back in his quiver. She closed the distance between them with an economy of steps, and waited, motionless, for him to speak.  
  
Looking down at her, he was struck anew by her youthful appearance. Her hair was still tousled from slumber and her right cheek had sleep-lines pressed in it. She could not be far past the age of majority, yet here she was, alone and lost in the world, not knowing what had happened to her family. He felt the sudden desire to keep her safe and protected. She blinked, and the moment passed.   
  
Regretting that he had replaced his arrow and no longer had something with which to employ his hands, he tensed, took a deep breath and began. "Lady Calen, I do not know who you are. Nor do I know why you are truly here. And," he said, with an abrupt hand gesture, forestalling her explanation, "nor is it my desire to know... at the moment. If you indeed wish to meet with the Elves of Lothlórien, I would give you some advice: that you keep secret your Dwarven name as long as possible."  
  
Legolas felt both better and worse having said his piece; better because he had finished, worse because of the hurt, then anger reflected in her eyes.   
  
Calen was dumbfounded. She glanced down at her hands and thought hard. 'Would the Elves be so narrowminded as to let a name bother them?' she thought, 'Or, was it what the name represented?' Either way, he was right. She would not mention her name. But still it galled her to have the elf suggest that her family was anything less than acceptable. 'Does he think of himself so highly that he feels he can order me about?' Legolas shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting for her response, but also preparing to return to the Fellowship. Calen shook herself.   
  
Without touching him, avoiding eye contact, she said stoically, "You speak with wisdom, Master Elf. I thank you for the well meant advice. Perhaps we should return to your companions before we are missed?" Without waiting to see if he agreed, she turned on her heel and, as silently as she had come, walked briskly back to rejoin Merry and Pippin at the base of the tree. She did not look back to acknowledge Legolas' presence, but neither did she seem to recognize the others around her.  
  
Legolas stifled a sigh, watching her retreating form. She was angry with him. Regrettable, to be sure, but a necessary evil. She did not realize the full extent of the dangers around her. Pushing down still more unanswered questions about this strange maiden, he shook his head and slipped back to the group unnoticed.  
  
After counting heads to assure himself that everyone was present, Aragorn nodded to Haldir and Rúmil, who led the Fellowship down a path littered with Orc footprints. Soon, Haldir veered off the path and walked to the bank of a river.   
  
"On the other side of the river is another Elf," Haldir stated, "though he is well hidden."   
  
With that, Haldir whistled softly and another grey cloaked Elf stepped out of a grove of trees. His hood was pushed back from his head, and in the sunshine, his blond hair shone brightly. With practised ease, Haldir tossed a coil of grey rope to the opposite shore. Catching it skilfully, the other Elf secured it around the base of a strong tree.  
  
"The stream, Celebrant, is quite strong, running deep and swift, and is very cold," Haldir continued, "This far north, we do not enter it unless we must. And in these dark days, we make no bridges. We cross the river in this manner."  
  
Having said that, Haldir fastened his end of the rope to a nearby tree and hopped nimbly onto the makeshift bridge. Then, as on a road, he ran to the far shore and back.  
  
"This is all very well for me, and perhaps the Lady, here," Legolas said, "but I am afraid the others have not this ability. Are they expected to swim?"  
  
"No," Haldir answered, "here are two more ropes. We will make them fast; one at waist height and the other at shoulder height. If they hold these ropes, your companions should be able to cross carefully."  
  
Calen looked at the flimsy bridge and wondered if she was awake enough to balance properly. Her head ached slightly and her thoughts moved slowly.  
  
"Oh," she muttered, "I would kill for maltakáno right now." 

Having overheard her comment, Merry and Pippin edged cautiously away.  
  
"Merry," Pippin whispered worriedly, "who is Maltakáno?"  
  
"I don't know," Merry answered, eyeing Calen warily, "I am less concerned with who he is, and more concerned with who and why she would kill for him."  
  
Calen laughed softly. "You are most certainly mistaken, little Masters," she said with a gentle smile, "Maltakáno is a 'what,' not a 'who.' It is an aromatic beverage my brother created by roasting dark beans, grinding them up and steeping the powder in water, usually served hot. It goes best with hot cakes and sausages, or a sweet cake after supper. There is nothing like it on Middle Earth."  
  
This comment, while it served to alleviate the Hobbits' fears, reminded them that they had missed breakfast, and they both fell silent.  
  
While they were talking, the group started across the river, one by one. Boromir gestured politely for Calen to precede him and she nodded her thanks. Taking a deep breath, she put one foot on the rope, and then the other. To her surprise, the action took almost no effort. Pleased with herself, she lifted her eyes from the rope to the opposite bank, only to find herself under scrutiny.   
  
Haldir, Legolas, and Aragorn were all watching her intently, although they tried to mask it with differing degrees of patience. Unused to such attention, she became flustered and nearly lost her footing. Instantly, Haldir leaned over and whispered in Legolas' ear. Without taking his eyes off her, Legolas shrugged slightly in response. Feeling her face flame, she regained her balance and made her way quickly and without further mishap, to the other side.   
  
As she waited for the Boromir and the Hobbits to cross the river, Calen tried to ignore the stares of the others by looking around at the trees. They were beautiful, more beautiful than she could have possibly imagined. She was very much looking forward to the walk to Caras Galadhon. Even the air here smelled fresher.  
  
Once everyone had crossed the river, the elves untied their ropes and coiled them up again; two ropes stayed on their side, and Rúmil, having stayed on the far bank, kept the third with him. With a wave of his hand, he turned to walk back to Nimrodel, to stand guard.  
  
"Friends," Haldir said, "you have entered the Gore, as you call it, it lies like an arrowhead between the Silverlode and Anduin the Great. We call it the Naith of Lórien, and we allow no one to spy on the Naith. We rarely even permit visitors to venture in.  
  
"As per our agreement, we shall now blindfold the Dwarf. The rest of you may walk freely, until we are nearer to the dwellings."  
  
Calen started and stared at Haldir. He knew? How? Her heart started pounding, until she was sure everyone could her it. She said nothing, and soon realized he was looking at Gimli. She felt silly. Why would anyone suspect? She hardly looked Dwarven. She did not have a beard, to start with. She grinned at that thought, and started to relax. She did feel sorry for the Dwarf. Given the chance, anyone would want to see the Golden Wood. Still, she was glad it wasn't her being blindfolded. She repressed a shudder at that thought.  
  
Not surprisingly, Gimli objected. "I made no such agreement," he stated irately, "I refuse to walk blindly, like a pauper or prisoner. I am not a spy. My folk have neither had any dealings with the Enemy, nor have we done any harm to the Elves. I am no more likely to betray your trust than Legolas, Lady Calen, or any other here in this group."  
  
"I believe you," Haldir said, "but such is our law. I am neither the law maker, nor the law bender. I cannot make exceptions, even for you, Master Dwarf. I have done more than I normally would, in letting you cross the Celebrant."  
  
The Dwarf was nothing, if not stubborn. He planted his feet and placed his hand on the hilt of his axe. "I will walk freely, or I will return from whence I came. There, at least, I am known to be a Dwarf of my word, even though I may perish on the way."  
  
"You may not turn back," Haldir said unsmilingly, "Since you have come thither, you must be brought before the Lord and Lady. They alone will judge you and decide if you should leave or stay. You cannot cross the river again, either, for there are secret, unpassable sentinels. You would be dead before you heard the bow string sing."   
  
Gimli pulled his axe from his belt, and the Lórien Elves nocked their bows.   
  
Legolas sighed in exasperation, "A plague on the stiff necks of the Dwarves."  
  
Aragorn intervened by saying, "Come, come. If I am still the head of this company, you must follow my lead. It is unfair for the Dwarf to be singled out in this manner. We shall bid the Elves to bind all of us. Yes, even Legolas and Lady Calen. It will be fair to all, though the trip will be long and dull."  
  
Even as Gimli laughed, Calen started panicking again. She was to wear a blindfold? How would she endure it? And she had waited so long to see the beauty of the Wood. Now she was going to miss it?   
  
Gimli found it amusing to picture the whole company walking in a line like so many blind paupers with one dog. "I will be satisfied, if Legolas will share in my sightlessness."  
  
"But," Legolas said, becoming angry himself, "I am an Elf, and a kinsmen here."  
  
"And I beg your pardon," Calen said timidly, "but I was wondering if I might be permitted to forego the wearing of a blindfold. This is the land of my mother, and I should like to see it for myself."  
  
Aragorn chuckled, "Now, let us call down a plague on the stiff necks of Elves. All of us shall fare alike. Come, Haldir, bind our eyes."  
  
"I shall keep a tally of every stub and stumble," said Gimli as they bound his eyes with cloth.  
  
Haldir said, "You shall have no need. You shall be well led, and the paths are even, level and direct."  
  
Legolas thought it was folly that they were all to be blinded to the beauty around them, but Haldir hastened to explain that the Elves of Lórien had so little trust in the world around them that they were extremely hesitant to allow strangers in. It was based solely on the respectability of Rivendell that the Fellowship had been granted entrance. The Golden Wood had become an island of control amidst a sea of chaos. The Shadow was slowly surrounding the Wood: the westerly mountains grew more sinister, the eastern lands were barren, cold and dangerous, the evil was creeping ever northward, and the great Rivers no longer promised protection. As of late, the Elves spent more time plucking a bowstring than a harp.  
  
"The Havens of the High Elves are believed to exist still," Haldir continued, "but I know only that they lie north and west, beyond the land of the Halflings. The Lord and Lady may know more, but the location of the Havens is not common knowledge here."  
  
"Now that you have seen us," said Merry, "you may at least hazard a guess as to where it is. There are Elf Havens west of the Shire where the Hobbits dwell."  
  
"Blessed are Hobbit-folk, to live so close to the sea," said Haldir, "My people have not seen the sea in a very long time, though we remember it in our songs. Tell me of the Havens as we walk."  
  
"I am afraid I cannot," Merry said, "I have never seen them or the sea. I have never ventured beyond the boundaries of my own land before now. And had I known what awaited me in the great wide world, I don't think I should have had the heart to leave home."  
  
Haldir smiled, "Not even to see Lothlórien? The world is indeed a perilous place and there is much darkness. There is still beauty in the world. And though, in all the lands, love is mingled with sorrow and heartache, perhaps love grows stronger still.  
  
"Some of my people sing that the Shadow will be withdrawn and peace shall return, but I think that the world around us will never be the same again. At best, I believe, the Elves will find a truce in which we may cross to the Sea unimpeded, leaving Middle Earth forever. Alas for the Lórien I love. Life would seem less full in a land where no mallorn trees grow. They may grow in the Havens, but none have ever confirmed it."  
  
With that said, Haldir wrapped a cloth around Calen's eyes. As the darkness descended, her heart rate ascended again. Fear was paramount. 'Uzbad!**' her mind called out, terrified 'Say something!' She felt smothered, stifled and alone, even though she could still hear the conversations of the others all around her.  
  
Someone walked by, brushing her arm. She reached out and clutched at him. It was Haldir. She tugged at his sleeve, and he came closer to her.  
  
"Please," she whispered, "do not force me to wear this."  
  
"Lady," he answered quietly, "I have no alternative. I am sorry." He turned to go.  
  
"No, wait!" Calen pleaded, clutching his tunic, "You do not understand. I do not like small spaces; they make me feel trapped and unable to breathe. Please." Calen tried to sound in control, but she could hear her voice break and it embarrassed her.  
  
"Lady Calen," Haldir replied, as he took her small, trembling hands in his larger, warmer ones, "I am in sympathy, but I am unable to make exceptions to the law. Believe me when I say I wish there was another way for you to travel."  
  
"Excuse me for interrupting," said a voice by her elbow, "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but perhaps I can help?"  
  
"How?" Calen asked, willing to try just about anything.  
  
"Well," continued the voice, "I have a cousin, that'd be my third cousin twice removed on my mother's side, Filibert is his name. Well, he has a problem very much like this and he found that it helped to have someone hold his hand and talk to him, so as to take his mind off the situation."  
  
"Good ole Bertie!" another elbow high voice chimed in, "Remember the time he got stuck in a tree and ripped his trousers and..."  
  
"Not now, Pip," scolded the first voice gently, "where are your manners?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Miss Calen," Pippin said quickly, "Would you feel better if Merry and I held your hands while we walked?"  
  
Calen was grateful for the suggestion. "If you wouldn't mind walking with me," she said softly, "I would appreciate the company very much. Thank you both for thinking of me." Haldir gave her hands a final squeeze, and then placed each into the waiting hand of a hobbit.  
  
Suddenly, Pippin laughed, "Gimli is right! We will look very strange... all three of us, holding hands with no idea where to go."  
  
Once everyone was blindfolded, the Elves ushered them to the path and directed them towards the Elven city. Haldir walked just ahead of Calen and the Hobbits, leading the caravan. She held onto each small hand tightly, feeling pinioned between them, shackled. Ignoring the echos of the small, scared girl she used to be, she focussed on breathing. Calen concentrated on dividing her thoughts between listening to Merry and Pippin and not giving in to the encroaching panic. The two of them prattled on endlessly about this relation's misfortune with the currant jelly and that uncle's escapade with the angry chickens. They were doing their best to keep their stories light and entertaining.  
  
Because she could not see, Calen was unable to gauge the position of the sun and therefore had no idea how long they had been walking. As she listened to their continuous and amusing stories she found herself calming. Soon, she was able to relax her tense muscles, slackening her vise-like hold on the Hobbits. Only after loosening her grip on their hands did she realise how tightly she had been squeezing them.  
  
'I must have nearly crushed their little fingers,' she thought to herself, 'and yet, they did not complain. Poor dears.'  
  
After perhaps an hour or two, Pippin and Merry exhausted their repertoire of humourous relative stories and moved on to the second subject close to their hearts... well, closer to their stomachs: food. They talked about food preparation, food presentation, and most heartily about food consumption. Roast duck with cranberry sauce, baked potatoes smothered in butter and sprinkled with salt, and plum pudding seemed to be favourites as they cropped up often in the long list of edibles. And above all, mentioned more than anything else, and included in just about every recipe, were mushrooms.  
  
Calen smiled into her blindfold. She was very glad of their company and their amusing anecdotes, but the recipes and constant food talk were reminding her that it was quite a while since she had last eaten. Her stomach was starting to protest her lack of attention. Disentangling her hand from that of "hobbit-on-the-left," as she had dubbed him, she reached into her shoulder bag and groped blindly. She was certain she still... aha! There they were. One at a time, she pulled out three apples, offering the first two to her companions and keeping the third for herself. It was not much, but it was all she could manage without the use of her eyes. They both thanked her prettily and set to eating the apples without further demure.  
  
In the ensuing silence, Calen fully expected the sense of panic to return. She waited, but the calm remained. Taking a deep breath, Calen released her anxiety and simply existed, walking in the dark. It was then that she realised it was not dark.. Yes, she was blindfolded, but if she opened her eyes, she could see a golden glow through the cloth on her face. What was causing the light? The sun? Or something less tangible? She had a feeling it was not the light of the sun; it should be behind her by now. And as the group made their way through the forest, Calen noticed something else: the silence was not empty. Granted, she could hear the footfalls of some of the others in the caravan, and the chewing of the hobbits by her side, but that was not what filled the air.   
  
The air may have been still, but it was by no means dead or barren. It thrummed with life, vibrant and full. Reaching out in her mind, Calen felt, or imagined she felt the silence welcoming her, surrounding her with a peace she had experienced but rarely in her life. She felt as though she stood still in a slow moving river as the warm currents ebbed and flowed around her. Feeling a smile blossom on her face, she released the hand of "hobbit-on-the-right" and walked willingly alone.  
  
Now that she was no longer frightened, Calen noticed the beauty of sightlessness. The birds' songs sounded sweeter, the air smelled fresher and the trees rustling was more musical than she had ever imagined they could be. She thought she could even detect the aroma of crushed peppermint leaves beneath their feet.

The Fellowship, Calen and their escorts walked until the cool of evening. Haldir declared that they would stop and rest on the ground, and that they had to keep their blindfolds on. In that, Calen was disappointed, as she greatly desired to see the stars, but she was cheered greatly by the fact that they need not sleep again on a talan. The idea of sleeping on a board was bad enough, but to climb a ladder and lie on a small platform without sight was terrifying.  
  
She could hear all around her the sounds of the others, settling down on the ground, trying to make themselves as comfortable as possible. Strangely enough, even after walking all day, and having little to eat, she was not tired, nor did she desire sleep. Sighing, she sat down with her back to a tree and rummaged again in her bag. She smiled when she located her hairbrush, and proceeded to brush the snarls out of her hair - no easy task when wearing a blindfold. The brush was stuck. Gritting her teeth, she tried to extricate the brush from the ties of the cloth that bound her eyes. Working her fingers behind her head, she sought to free the brush. The stubborn tangle would not loosen. In frustration, she yanked hard on the brush, feeling it give way. The sense of victory was short-lived, however, as the blindfold fell away from her eyes, still attached to the brush.  
  
Calen gasped, and found herself suddenly face-to-point with a nocked arrow.  
  
~*~*~*~*~

* Nana - Mother (Sindarin)

** Uzbad - lord, (father) (Khazdul)


End file.
